


dawning

by spideywhiteys



Series: 365 Days of Naruto AUs [33]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Dragon Riders, Dragonrider AU, M/M, Naruto is the sun, also as usual tbh, background lore, i could worldbuild this au for months tbh, naruto is a half dragon half kitsune, selection process, shikamaru is a shadow user as usual, soulbond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:07:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29166960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spideywhiteys/pseuds/spideywhiteys
Summary: To this day, he doesn’t know why it’s him among all the Nara that was chosen to be the first. Every Rider that’s ever existed is chosen by the Great Sage, the divine immortal who speaks prophecies and sees all. Whether you be a human commoner, a half-deity, a mermaid or even a dwarf — race and class never mattered. Once you were chosen, you were a Rider. It’s the highest honor, the greatest accomplishment — a lot of work that Shikamaru never asked for.
Relationships: Nara Shikamaru/Uzumaki Naruto
Series: 365 Days of Naruto AUs [33]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2086938
Comments: 7
Kudos: 105





	dawning

**Author's Note:**

> Day 33: Dragonrider AU / Shikamaru + Naruto

On the day of Shikamaru’s seventeenth birthday, he rises with the sun. This is not a normal occurrence, as he’d much rather never leave the realm of sleep nor his toasty warm covers. But today is so impactful to the rest of his life that his treasured sleep has been light and fretful. 

He shoves the pelts from his body with a grumble, the barest hint of sunrise hues smudged across a clear sky, indigo dotted with still-visible stars steadily fading with every minute that passes. The air is cool, but the last vestiges of summer still cling to the night, and his body acclimatizes quickly. He lays there for only a moment before reluctantly heaving himself up. The early hour is sure to give his parents a heart attack if he shows his face, but he, shockingly, knows he’ll be unable to fall back to sleep.

He dresses for the day, comfortable slacks and leather guards tightened to his arms, deer pelt slung over his shoulder. The Nara Clan insignia is carved very carefully into the intricately patterned leather chestplate he sports. He probably spends an hour reweaving small deer bones into his hair and paying far too much attention to his appearance. This is completely and utterly unlike him, but for some reason his gut is heavy and churning. Anxiety is a fickle mistress, stealing away his appetite and making him repaint the Rider Selection markings on his face three times before he feels like there isn’t a single imperfection to be spotted. 

“Who are you and what have you done with my son?” His mother exclaims when he slips into their dining room. His father is already up as well, the dark circles under his eyes matching his son’s. Both his parents are dressed in celebratory pelts for his Selection, smokey paint curling around their eyes and cheeks like living shadows, a far cry from the white that sits on his own dark skin.

“Stressed?” His dad asks around a mouthful of buttered bread, haggard but alert and always able to read Shikamaru no matter how old he gets.

Shikamaru grunts. “It’s just a pain.”

“The most troublesome event of your life,” Shikaku agrees, “Until you get married, that is.”

Yoshiro smacks him on the back of the head, and Shikamaru quickly busies himself with his own breakfast to avoid getting dragged into their one-sided squabble. He’s honestly not sure he ever wants to get married after observing these two for the past seventeen years.

“Now, it’s a big day, Shikamaru.” His mother says when they’re preparing to leave. Shikaku hovers awkwardly behind them, having no real words of comfort. Shikamaru thinks he’d laugh if his father even tried. “You’re the first Nara to be deemed a Rider by the Great Sage.”

“No pressure.” Shikaku chimes in.

Shikamaru’s expression twitches, and he sighs. “Yeah, no pressure  _ my ass. _ This is way too troublesome.”

To this day, he doesn’t know why it’s  _ him _ among all the Nara that was chosen to be the first. Every Rider that’s ever existed is chosen by the Great Sage, the divine immortal who speaks prophecies and sees all. Whether you be a human commoner, a half-deity, a mermaid or even a dwarf — race and class never mattered. Once you were chosen, you were a Rider. It’s the highest honor, the greatest accomplishment — a lot of work that Shikamaru never asked for.

“I’m sure whoever you form the Bond with will be perfect for you.” His mother says, fussing over his deer-skin cloak with bright eyes and a furrowed brow. She, too, is concerned, and not as good at hiding it as his father. “That’s how it’s supposed to go, right? The other half of your soul. You know, it’s rather romantic—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Shikamaru risks interrupting her, anxiety once again squirming in his stomach and threatening to ruin his recent meal. “We’re gonna be late. I’d like to get this over with.”

Yoshino exhales, taking one last moment to brush imaginary dirt from his shoulders. “Right, right. Let’s go then.”

* * *

They arrive at the designated temple just as the sun is reaching its peak in the sky. It’s a journey that took the better part of two hours, and it would have taken far longer had they not rode in on traditional Nara stags. Their hooves clack against the polished stone entryway, heavy snorts replacing the sound of thunderous galloping. 

Shikamaru slows even further, tilting his head back to stare at the marvel of architecture built into the side of the Western Mountain. Tall columns line the walkway, sheer white marble with sloping designs carved across the surfaces — waves, spirals, detailed dragons winding around and around. The temple is well maintained, the same beautiful marble cut into thick slabs and marked with scenes of great draconic battles and more swirling patterns. The stone floor gives way to a mosaic depicting the sky in all its forms. It’s so beautiful that Shikamaru momentarily doesn’t want to lead his stag over it. But his parents don’t pause, so he enters the temple just a step behind them.

A man greets them halfway into the room. Perhaps a few years younger than his parents, with a shock of electric blonde hair and reptilian eyes the color of the sky. Horns curl at his temples, from the darkest of blues to the lightest, and his mouth is filled with razor-like teeth. 

A Draconian. Taken, by the lack of markings painted on his skin — or at least not participating in the Selection. 

“Welcome.” He greets, his smile a little goofy despite the fangs he sports. “I’m Namikaze Minato, I’m overseeing the Selection process on behalf of the Draconians. You’re the last to arrive — the rest are waiting in the next room. Feel free to dismount, we have a few elves around to take care of any steeds.”

Shikamaru and his parents dismount, and he once again hangs back as they begin talking to Minato.

“It’s not painful, is it?” His mother asks. “There’s no bleeding involved, right?”

“No,” Minato replies, blinking those odd eyes in mirth. “It’s not the kind of Bond that’s born of such things.”

“But what’s it like? Does he need to be prepared for some trial? Should he have prepared a gift? He’s the first Nara to be chosen by the Great Sage, you see. Shadow Users like us have no knowledge of what goes on here — what happens in temple walls stays in temple walls, you know.”

Shikaku chuckles under his breath at Minato’s slightly overwhelmed expression. “It’ll be fine.” He says to Yoshino. “I’m sure we would have been told if he needed anything.”

Minato smiles again, sheepish. “You’re correct. Nothing is needed aside from a Draconian and the Rider.” The blonde then glances back at Shikamaru. “My own son is participating, he’s probably your age.”

“Oh!” Yoshino claps excitedly. “Oh, wouldn’t it be the sweetest thing if they—”

“Mom!” Shikamaru finally groans.

Minato chuckles, stopping at a massive door that spans from the floor to the obscenely tall ceiling. It’s hand-painted, the figures of a dragon and a man facing each other. Minato pushes the door open without a single moment of struggle, even though it must weigh hundreds of pounds.

A short breeze brushes by them as it opens fully, and the sound of chatter fills the air. The quartet enter the room and Shikamaru stares at the sheer opulence. Once again, the ceilings are towering, and from them hang massive, shining crystals. Three of the walls alternate between masterfully painted scenery, oceanic mosaics and polished marble. The last is not a wall at all, but a balcony leading to open air and gifting the room’s occupants with an unhindered view of the sprawling mountain range and the viridian forests below.

“Dad!” A voice calls, slightly husky but high. A figure clothed in loose, swooping azure fabrics approaches in a whirlwind of movement. Gold is intertwined with the blue, swirling patterns embroidered in the fabric, a great nine-tailed kitsune stitched into the widest swath of his main robe. The quality of his clothes speaks of his status, and the stunning white design painted on his skin speaks of his participation in the Selection.

He looks remarkably like Minato in coloring, though his face is a little softer, a little more square whereas Minato’s is narrow and pointed. Between the sunset horns sprouting from his temples rests two fox ears, fiery orange and resting in messy locks of gold. Teeth, eyes and nails — the blend of Draconian and Kitsune is seamless, and of the three tails waving at his back, two are fur and one is scales. 

Draconians can usually breed with any and every species across the world, but there are combinations that are far more rare — not to mention  _ risky _ in terms of full conception — than others. A Kitsune Dragon is completely, utterly,  _ entirely _ unheard of.

And the second those slitted azure eyes meet Shikamaru’s, the world slows and the anxiety in his gut is eradicated. Instead a field of flowers blossoms in his chest, filling his lungs with the scent of a fresh bouquet and honey. 

“This is my son,” Minato introduces, “Uzumaki Naruto, he’s a bit rambunctious but—”

“Oh.” Naruto exhales, silencing the small group. “It’s you!”

Shikamaru opens and closes his mouth. “Uh. Yeah?”

And Naruto just grins like he’s done something monumental, like he’s parted the clouds with a single wave of his hand. Their souls spill out of cracked chests and intertwine in the space between them until they become one. Tethering the two teens together until the end of time. Shikamaru feels it like a physical weight. Like strings have actually sprouted from his chest to tie him to Naruto.

It makes his head spin, makes him heady with sudden euphoria that’s echoed in those sky-gem eyes. Naruto takes his hand and the world shifts and clears and it’s as if Shikamaru is seeing everything for the first time, but all he can focus on is Naruto.

He lied, he’s absolutely sure he wants to get married.

Naruto smiles at him cluelessly, a solar storm that turns everything else to gray. He steals all the color from the world and Shikamaru doesn’t even care. Naruto deserves every shade, he deserves everything. 

“Great Sage,” Yoshino mutters in the background. “A Kitsune Dragon? Shikaku, are you seeing this—”

His father can only groan, head in his hands even as a smile threatens to pull at his lips. “Only our son.”

Shikamaru doesn’t hear them at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Support / Follow me on [Tumblr!](https://spideyfoof.tumblr.com/)


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